


Sins of Omission

by halfpastmorrow



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-09
Updated: 2010-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-06 01:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfpastmorrow/pseuds/halfpastmorrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes to move forward you have to go back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sins of Omission

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seshat](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Seshat).



> Smutmas 2007

**1991**  
The earth lurched beneath Charlie's feet. He staggered sideways, tripped over his trunk and went down on one knee in the mud. Someone grabbed a double-handful of his jacket, saving him from a full face plant, and he shook his head. "Man, that was something else."

"First long-haul Portkey?" an amused voice asked as he was hauled to his feet.

Charlie grinned at his saviour, a slight man with tired grey eyes and silver starting to thread through his hair. "Never been further than Hogwarts. Does it show?"

"A bit," the man said, eyes crinkling up with good humour.

Charlie stuck out his hand. "Charlie..."

"...Weasley," the man said, squeezing it. "Remus Lupin."

"It's the hair, isn't it?"

"That, and I knew your father once." Lupin looked thoughtful. "In the war."

"Yeah," Charlie said, looking around. The Portkey drop off zone was right by a dirt track. "Say, do you know how to get to the dragon preserve? Someone was supposed to meet me but..." He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a crumpled bit of paper. "I can't quite remember... oh yeah, here it is. Holwick. Angus Holwick."

Lupin began gathering his things, stacking them on top of a battered steamer trunk. "You should probably wait here, then. I'm sure he will be along in a minute."

"Yeah," Charlie said, pointing toward a stout man with a face full of bristling white whiskers, who was stumping over the crest of the hill.

The man frowned, when he saw Lupin. "Lupin, I can take it from here."

"Holwick." Lupin gave him a swift nod, his mouth a grim line. He waved his wand, muttering at the steamer trunk, which rose a foot off the ground, and set off down the hill with it trailing along behind.

Charlie stared after him, mouth agape. "Hey, wait. We can go... together."

"Weasley?"

Charlie jerked, startled, as his trunk was thrust against his chest. "That's me." He gave a lopsided smile and stuck out one hand around the trunk. It was met by a sandpaper rough palm.

The man smiled. "Angus Holwick, head of your crew. I'll be showing you the ropes."

At that moment, an ear-splitting roar broke the silence and a dragon with poisonous green scales swept over their heads with a sudden rush of wind. Four tiny figures on broomsticks followed in its wake.

"Holy crap!" Charlie yelped, tipping his head back as it passed overhead.

Angus barked out a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome to Romania, lad."

 

**1998**  
They buried Fred amid the crowd of Weasleys already interred in the tiny graveyard attached to the local parish church.

It was a private ceremony, just the family, a hundred or so of Fred's closest friends and the local vicar – a doddering man who had been old when Charlie was a lad. It was more people than Charlie had seen together in one place since Bill's wedding, and he was sweating in his best dark robes. He counted himself fortunate he had missed the formal memorial service. In fact, Fred's funeral had been delayed because he'd had to go back to Romania, due to the timely arrival of a rare pair of Horntails hatched from a single egg. But he wasn't much for the Ministry's brand of pomp at the best of times.

When the ceremony was at last over, he shoved his hands deep in the pockets of his pants and set to dodging conversation with first his Aunt Madge, who tended toward gaudy robes, noisy wet kisses and cheek pinching, and then with his Aunt Mildred, who tended toward thin lips, disapproval and sniping about Aunt Madge. Keeping half an eye on his mother, who was talking to a large woman with a narrow feathered hat and three daughters in tow, he escaped down a narrow avenue toward the opposite side of the cemetery.

Not by chance, he ended up in front of a new double grave tucked in a corner beneath the spread of an old oak. Despite the Ministry-bestowed headstone, the grave wasn't well made. The flat ledger stone on top of the grave was askew and wobbled slightly when he poked it with his toe. "Typical," he muttered. "Hero of the bloody wizarding world and they still can't get past their prejudice."

The wind had scattered the floral tributes people had laid on the grave. Charlie gathered them up and set them to rights, charming into submission a bunch of wailing forget-me-nots and a pair of never-fade-orchids that were in clear violation of the _International Statute of Secrecy_ and incinerating a few that had been trampled into the mud with a flick of his wand.

Then he stood back, pulled out a flask of Firewhisky. "Here's to you, you daft fool," he said and drank.

"Mum'll have your head if she catches you," a cheery voice said right in his ear.

Charlie choked, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and passed the flask over. "If she catches me. Least I haven't got a wife after me as well."

Bill took a furtive swig and looked sternly down at Charlie, his mouth thinning with disapproval. "Best thing for you," he said, in a tone uncannily like their mother's. "A young man ought to have a family to see him right."

Charlie stole back the flask and tucked it away, eyeing Bill critically. "Best thing for making you gain a few pounds. I thought it was your wife who was eating for two these days, not you."

"Well, now," Bill said, patting a non-existent paunch. "You too will know the delights of a good home-cooked meal if Mum has anything to do with it. I saw her talking to Mrs Applethwaite earlier. She has three daughters."

Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know."

"It's not all bad. Rumour has it her eldest has a fine collection of animated kneazle figurines," Bill said, managing to keep a straight face.

"Save me," Charlie groaned.

"You could save yourself, you know." Bill's eyes cut toward the headstone, then back again, setting up a tic in Charlie's jaw. "Tell her about..."

"There's nothing to tell!"

"What about Remus?"

"Ancient history," Charlie said, folding his arms over his chest.

Bill gave him a sharp-eyed look. "Really? That explains why you're drinking a toast to his memory five years after it ended, doesn't it?"

"Goddammit, would you just…" Charlie looked off into the distance and then down to his shoes. Anywhere but at Bill. "Just leave off, all right."

"He was happy," Bill said, cutting into the awkward silence. "I mean if it helps, he seemed..."

Charlie closed his eyes. "'Course he wasn't. The miserable git never knew how to take a good thing lying down." He opened them after a moment and toed the ledger stone again, watching it wobble. "Look, help me fix this, will you," he said, gesturing to it.

 

**1991**  
The dragon handler's camp was small. After a few weeks, Charlie knew it like the back of his hand. It lay at the narrow end of a triangular mountain valley. A half dozen rough wooden shacks in varying states of disrepair lined a rutted muddy track that passed for the main street, the paymaster's office, quartermaster's office and amenities block on the north side and the canteen _cum_ alehouse, infirmary and head keeper's quarters to the south. The workshops, living quarters and storage rooms were housed in a series of identical canvas tents that fanned out on either side. A thick fur of trees ran two thirds of the way up the mountains rising steeply on all sides of the encampment, with the dragons themselves housed in natural caves in the bare rock tips.

The whole place appeared temporary, but it had been there so long a small village had sprung up by the train line running through the wider end.

Charlie couldn't have been more excited when he first arrived, unable to believe he had actually been chosen. But the work itself proved to be dull as dishwater and nothing like he'd expected. On an average day, Charlie fetched and carried and cleaned with nary even a glimpse of a dragon. Angus had -- repeatedly -- told him to be patient; that he had to learn how to handle a Grindylow before setting a trap. Worse, though, with the rest of his crew off tending their charges, he was often alone, almost always bored, and was therefore thrilled whenever he saw anything even resembling a familiar face.

"Hey, Lupin," he called out, dropping the small brush he was using on the table and darting out of the work tent into blinding sunlight. "I've been meaning to thank... Christ, what happened to you?"

Lupin was hobbling up the main path, one arm held tightly across his abdomen, scratches all over his face.

"It's nothing."

Charlie snorted. "You look like you've gone ten rounds with some brambles."

A deep cut on Lupin's temple was oozing a little, so Charlie fished a clean polishing rag from the waist of his leather apron and dabbed at the cut. Lupin twitched at his touch. He reached up to press his own hand to the cloth and his fingers slid along and between Charlie's, making a shiver run down his spine.

"Lupin, do you... we could..." Charlie began, his heart beating nineteen to the dozen. He didn't take his hand away.

"Remus," Lupin said, a puzzled frown on his face. "Please." His eyes widened as Charlie stepped in closer, his hand sliding down to Remus's wrist. "Charlie, I don't think..."

Laughter suddenly rang out behind Charlie, and Remus jerked away. Someone shouted, "Hey, Weasley, get your kit. One of the hatchlings got out." Charlie turned to see who it was.

"Fuck," he said, seeing the rest of his crew. "Guess today's my lucky day." He turned back, but Lupin had disappeared.

 

**1998**  
The morning after the funeral, Charlie came down to the kitchen just in time to see his father disappear into the Floo for work. Ron and Harry were already sitting at the table eating breakfast. He poured himself a cup of tea and joined them.

"Morning, all," he said as his mother put a plate crammed full of eggs, bacon, tomatoes and baked beans down in front of him.

Ron grunted at him around a mouthful of toast and Harry, who was sporting the worst case of bed-head Charlie had ever seen, jerked out of his doze long enough to nod at him.

"Got any plans for the day?" his mother asked, putting a fresh pile of toast on the table.

Charlie took a piece. "Thought I might drop by Hogwarts. Show Hagrid those photos of Norberta's twins."

"Great," Ron said, shovelling more toast in his mouth. "Mind if Harry and I tag along? It's been ages since we saw Hagrid properly."

Harry seemed to perk up a bit at this, but his mother began furiously rattling things on the stove. "Harry may go if he likes, Ron, but I need you to help me clean out the attic this week. Since the ghoul moved back out of your room last month I've had nothing but complaints, and I've had it up to here."

Ron looked horrified. "Mum, I'm on holiday!"

The pots rattled even harder. "No, you aren't. You told your father last night you weren't going to take up Minerva's very generous offer for you to go back and finish your schooling, which means you are currently unemployed, not on holiday!"

"But Mum, I need time to figure out what I'm going to do with my life."

His mother dropped the pot she was holding and whirled around, putting her hands on her hips. "Take all the time you need, Ronald Weasley. But you won't be sitting around on your backside while you do it."

 

**1991**  
Charlie jogged up the steps to the sagging wooden porch of the canteen, spelled the worst of the mud off his boots, and pushed inside. In contrast to the deserted street outside, the interior was jam-packed. His ears immediately began to ring with the jovial shouts of the occupants.

He was still hyped up after getting his first opportunity to work with a dragon and stumbled over old Travers's wooden staff as he threaded his way between the rickety pine tables, very nearly sending himself face first into a plate full of stew. He dropped into the only open seat at the table with his crew.

"There you are, lad," Angus said, clapping him on his unbandaged shoulder. "All patched up. We were gettin' worried about you. Beginnin' to think it was worse than it appeared." Charlie had a bump on the back of his head and a burn on his neck and shoulder, but was otherwise unscathed.

Anders snorted, mischief written all over his round face. "Worried he wouldn't dare show his face after being bested by a dragon the size of a footstool, more like."

"Go on," Charlie said, grinning. He dug a friendly elbow into Anders's ribs. "It had to be at least the size of a coffee table."

First burns were something of a rite of passage in the camp, one that involved the newly initiated shouting his crew a pint -- or so Charlie had been told -- and much good-natured ribbing. Charlie ducked his head to the side as the heckling spread to neighbouring tables.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus sitting on a stool at one end of the counter reading a day-old copy of _The Daily Prophet_ and drinking a cup of tea. Merlin only knew where that had come from. He appeared completely oblivious to the commotion, except every now and then the paper would dip slightly and Remus would peer over the top, eyes skimming over Charlie's face. Charlie waited until the paper dipped again, the corner of his mouth tipping up as their eyes met.

Remus jerked the paper back into place when he was caught. Charlie was therefore distracted, fighting the urge to snicker at the furious rustle of paper, and caught unaware by the small projectile that collected him in the ear.

He clapped a hand to it and turned to catch several grinning faces and the tail end of the conversation. "...still with us. Or did that bump to your head cause permanent damage?"

"Hey!" Charlie protested. "If I had, you might miss out on that free beer."

"Well now, that would be a shame," Angus said, leaning back in his seat and folding his arms over his stomach. "Though this free beer you mentioned seems to be an awful long time coming."

"I'll bet," Charlie said, clambering to his feet.

 

**1998**  
Harry opted to stay and help Ron, not that he had much of a choice really, and Charlie went to Hogwarts alone. He apparated to the gates with his broom and flew over the grounds.

The school was quieter than the last time he had seen it. A small group of witches and wizards were clustered around the ruined part of the castle, but otherwise all was still. The morning sun cut long shadows across the grass, promising the heat of summer, but further off in the distance there were storm clouds stacked one on top of the other.

Around Hagrid's cottage things were quieter still. The usual winter crops had given way to beds full of herbs, and Fang snuffled his way along the rows. The lone chimney smoked, but the doors were shut tight and the curtains were drawn.

It didn't look like Hagrid was home, and Charlie knocked once in a disheartened manner, half-prepared to leave. He was turning to go when he heard the faint scrape of wood on stone and a clatter of metal.

"Hagrid," he called, putting his ear to the door. He heard a strange moan that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "Hagrid, I know you're in there. I've got something to show you." He pounded on the door when there was no answer. "Is everything all right?"

Charlie heard the sound of heavy footsteps, the door creaked open an inch or two and a single black eye peered out. "Oh, it's yeh," Hagrid said. "Jus' a minute," and closed the door in his face again.

This time when Charlie put his ear to the door, he heard the low rumble of Hagrid's voice, and then more rattling metal. Then he heard the heavy footsteps again and backed off down the step. Hagrid opened the door just wide enough to squeeze out his massive bulk and closed it behind him. Charlie craned his neck, trying to get a glimpse of the interior, but Hagrid was so huge he couldn't see past him.

"Sorry, I can't let yeh inside. Bin lettin' the cleanin' go a bit," Hagrid said, settling himself down on the step. "So yeh said yeh had summat ter show me."

Charlie began digging around in his pocket. "Oh, yeah. Remember when I wrote to tell you about Norberta? Well, she had twins. Brought you some photos."

Hagrid took the photos with a certain amount of gravity. "Well, ain't that summat," he said, stroking a massive finger along the edge of the frame. The hatchling on the left snapped at his finger. "Look at 'em. Sweet ain't they, jus' like their Mum were when she were their age."

Charlie spluttered a little. These babies could already shoot fire eight feet or more, and had already scorched more than one of their handlers. "Uh, yeah. They're sweet all right."

He heard a crash and the sound of glass breaking inside the cottage, followed by the same strange low moan. Hagrid jumped to his feet.

"Hagrid," Charlie asked, staring at the door and wondering just what Hagrid had inside, "is everything all right? Got anything in there I can help you with?"

"Heh, heh. Nuthin' ter worry abou'. Probably jus' Fang." He edged toward the door. "I should probably get in there an' see what's what." He offered Charlie the photos back.

"Nah," Charlie said, shaking his head. "More where those came from. You should come by and see them sometime."

"Maybe I will." Tears welled up in Hagrid's eyes as he gazed at the photos. "Sorry, I can't invite yeh in fer tea."

"That's all right. You should stop by the house one day. Mum'd love to see you, and I know Ron would. Mum might let him off the housework for five minutes if you did that." He grinned at Hagrid.

"I might jus' do that."

Charlie tucked his broom under his arm, deciding to walk back over the grounds since it was so nice out. He turned back to look just before the cottage would have been out of sight. He grinned, shaking his head, as he saw Fang still in the garden, but then he saw something pale at the window of the cottage from the corner of his eye. For a moment, he thought it looked like a face, but it vanished too soon for him to get a good look, disappearing with a twitch of the curtains. Charlie chuckled, thinking again of Fang in the garden and wondering just what Hagrid had inside, and walked on.

 

**1991**  
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Charlie asked, pushing past a gobsmacked Remus and into his tent later that evening.

The guest tents weren't as large on the inside as the regular tents, but they were better appointed. Rugs on the floor, a bed against one wall, armchair at the foot, table and chairs against the far wall, and a pot bellied stove in the centre.

Charlie prowled around the room, the buzz from a few drinks giving him more self-assurance than normal. "I looked for you earlier, but you seem to be making a habit of disappearing on me." The desk was littered with pieces of parchment. Genealogy charts, he saw with a frown, tracing the top one with his finger. "Hey," he said, looking over his shoulder. Lupin was still standing by the door. "These are dragon bloodlines. Is that what you do?"

"Among other things."

"Brilliant."

Remus put his hands in his pockets. "Charlie, what are you doing here?"

Charlie stripped off his coat, flung it over the back of a chair and took a couple of quick strides toward Remus. He ran a finger down his shirt buttons. "You know what I'm doing here."

"This isn't a good idea," Remus said, his body language tense, wary.

Charlie had stopped only inches away from Remus. "Why not? I want you, and I know that you want me."

"We can't always get what we want."

"True." Charlie hooked two fingers in Remus belt loop, thumbing the soft cotton of his shirt. "But there's nothing stopping us now." He tilted his head back, searching Remus's face. "Is there?"

For a beat or two, Remus didn't move. Then he grabbed Charlie, pulling him to him, his mouth descending on Charlie's, fierce and biting. He was unexpectedly strong, steering Charlie backward and down on to the bed, blanketing him with his body. He kissed Charlie over and over with hardly a break between, until Charlie was forced to twist his head to the side and gasp for breath.

"You have no idea what you're doing," Remus said, mouthing the thin skin beneath Charlie's ear and unbuttoning Charlie's shirt. "No idea at all."

Charlie shivered, alarmed for a moment at the intensity in his voice, but forgot a moment later as his fly was tugged open and his pants were tugged from his hips. It felt like Remus was everywhere at once, hands cupping the curve of his arse, humid breath on his nipple, teeth on the soft flesh on the inside of his upper arm, nose in his armpit. It went on and on, and Charlie sucked helplessly at the thumb in his mouth and tugged Remus's shirt up out of his pants and over the small of his back.

"Fuck," he said, palming burning hot skin. "I need to... Come on." He had no idea why Remus was taking so long to get down to it. His previous experience had been limited to sessions muffled behind silencing spells where the aim was to get off and get out before you got caught, which bore no resemblance to this slow form of torture. He gasped, head thrown back on the pillow, caught Remus's hand and dragged it around to his cock.

"Tell me what you want," Remus said, giving Charlie's cock a slow stroke from root to tip. "My mouth... my..."

"Fuck," Charlie said, toes curling from the agony of pleasure denied. "Anything... just..." And came as Remus began to curl himself downward.

Remus hardly gave him a moment to breathe. He sat up, astride Charlie's thighs, unbuttoning his fly. Charlie reached for him, sliding both hands along the inside of his thighs, but Remus caught his hands and pressed them down on either side of Charlie's head, kissing him more slowly now, sliding his cock through the slickness on Charlie's belly at the same unhurried pace.

"Yeah," Charlie said, looking up at Remus through slitted eyes, a strange lassitude descending over his body. "Yeah. Come on."

When he was done, he rolled off Charlie, flinging his arm over his eyes. Charlie struggled up on his elbows to pull off his shirt. "Christ," he said, using it to mop at his stomach. "I had no idea."

Remus peered out from under his arm and gave a faint chuckle.

 

**1998**  
The day after his visit to Hogwarts, Charlie answered a knock at the kitchen door to find Hagrid standing there, twisting his hat in his hands. He gaped. "Hagrid, what are you doing here?"

Hagrid scratched the back of his head. "Yeh said it would be all right fer me to come fer tea sometime. An' I felt right bad about yesterday."

"Oh, sorry." Charlie held the door open, motioning Hagrid inside. Hagrid ducked his head as he entered. "I wasn't expecting... not so soon." None of the kitchen chairs were big enough to hold Hagrid, so he took him through to the sitting room and hit the couch with a reinforcement charm. "Take a seat. I'll just fetch Mum."

Charlie found his mother in the attic with Harry, Ron, Hermione and the ghoul. Harry and Hermione were sitting on boxes talking in low voices, but Ron stood in the centre of the attic, a bunch of old robes on his outstretched arms and a scowl on his face. His mother wasn't best pleased with the situation. "Honestly, Charlie, you're worse than Arthur. I haven't even time to change," she said in an undertone as she made tea.

Hagrid drank nine cups of tea from the Weasley's delicate floral patterned tea service -- "I'm sorry, Hagrid. I would enlarge it, but it belonged to Arthur's grandmother so it can't take the strain." -- and asked after what seemed like every member of the extended (and extensive) Weasley clan, until even Ron was shaking his head in disbelief.

"Sorry ter hear he's poorly," Hagrid said of Edgar Bagshot, whom Charlie thought was a cousin thrice removed on his mother's side when he thought of him at all, which wasn't often. Hagrid leant forward in his chair. "I expect yeh have a lot of experience fixing that kind of thing."

"Well now, I don't know that there is a cure for scrofulous ear worm," his mother said. "Sometimes the only thing you can do is make the patient rest and let nature take its course."

Hagrid clattered the delicate cup onto its saucer. "Even if he... er, it don't want ter get better?"

His mother juggled her cup to the other hand and patted Hagrid's arm. "Is everything all right, Hagrid?"

The clock over the mantle chimed and the hand marked Arthur swung around to travelling. "I've kept yeh," Hagrid said, lumbering to his feet at once.

He left with an enormous slice of plum cake and a promise to visit Charlie when he returned to work at the end of the month.

After he was gone, Hermione pursed her lips. "Do you remember what Hagrid was like in first year when he got that dragon?"

"Yeah," said Ron, snapping his fingers as Harry nodded enthusiastically.

"I was thinking along the same lines myself," Charlie agreed.

"Oh dear," his mother said.

 

**1991**  
As the weather grew colder, the dragons grew feisty.

"Put your back into it, Charlie," Angus yelled above the Chinese Fireball's angry roar. "We need more tension on that left lead chain."

Charlie dug his feet in trying to find purchase, but the scree kept shifting under his feet. The dragon tossed his head and Charlie was jerked forward another foot. "Angus... Angus, I'm losing.." he said, staggering back into position.

"Stan, get round there and give him a hand," Angus said to the dour dark-haired wizard on his left.

But before Stan had a chance to do anything, Charlie felt someone else take up the chain behind. He turned his head to see Remus, who had arranged this exchange of dragons with the Canadian reservation and come to supervise the loading of the Fireball onto the railcar. "Thanks," he panted and turned his attention back to the task at hand

"He's not going down," someone yelled from the far side of the dragon. "Let's give him another blast."

"All right then, on the count of three."

A shower of sparks hit the dragon from all sides and he staggered, collapsing on his side. Charlie shot over backward at the release of tension, but bounded to his feet again, eager to get close to his first full-grown dragon.

A dozen wizards crowded around the dragon, levitating the head at Angus's instruction, getting the sleeping draught into him for the trip, but Charlie hung back, sweeping his hand over the powerful foreleg. Each of the scales was as big as his hand, the deep maroon of the feet lightening to scarlet as they grew closer to the body, and the claws were as long as his forearm.

"Right, then," said Angus. "Let's get him loaded." Once the dragon had been staked inside the railcar and the side spelled into place, Angus leaned against it and wiped his forehead. "Mating season. Never a worse time to move 'em -- what with them bein' so randy and us bein' so busy this time of year. But it's necessary."

"Couldn't we just send the semen?" Charlie asked, frowning. "I mean, since it's that awkward. I heard at school that..."

Angus raised a hairy eyebrow. "You'll be the first to sign up to masturbate a dragon, then." Charlie went brick red as there were guffaws all round. "No, lad, it's been tried. Dragons aren't like Muggle domestic animals, or like wizarding ones for that matter, so it don't take. So you understand why it's necessary, and why I can't afford to send anyone else."

"I don't mind," Charlie said, with a sidelong look at Remus, who was climbing in to the compartment at the far end of the railcar.

"Watch out for them Canadians, lad," Angus said, then he followed the direction of Charlie's gaze. "And for him as well." Charlie opened his mouth to protest, but Angus yanked the shoulder of his jacket, forcing Charlie's attention to him. He leant in close, but he seemed more concerned than angry. "I know you young ones think you know everything, but he's an odd one, Charlie. Humour me just this once, eh? Keep an eye out for him."

 

**1998**  
Charlie wasn't used to sitting around doing nothing. His longest holiday to date had been the fortnight he had taken for the Quidditch world cup. His mother would hardly let him lift a finger -- "Just you rest, dear" -- so after a week at home he was ready to climb the walls. It took some fast talking, but he managed to persuade his mother to give Ron the afternoon off, and they all went in to Diagon Alley for a change of scene.

It was a bit like been a student on a trip to Hogsmeade. They visited the Leaky Cauldron and George, who was being helped out by Angelina at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and Florean Fortescue and came back chock-full of Butterbeer, ice-cream and laughter.

As they tumbled out of the Floo holding their stomachs, his mother charged down the stairs carrying a baby. "Thank goodness," she said, pushing the bundle into Harry's arms. "Here you go."

"Mrs Weasley," Harry stammered, looking down at the baby with wide eyes.

"Andromeda dropped him off two hours ago. She had to go shopping before the christening next week, but he screams the place down every time I try to put him down. Arthur will be home soon and I haven't been able to get a thing done." Charlie hung back as everyone else began to cluster around Harry.

"Is that Teddy Lupin?" Hermione asked, peering down at the baby. She frowned. "Is his nose supposed to look like that?"

"Oh, he's so cute," Ginny said, leaning over Harry's arm and pulling faces at Teddy. "Just like Tonks. She used to make that same face."

"Mrs Weasley," Harry said again, clutching the baby like it was a bomb. "I don't know anything about babies."

"He's your godson, Harry." She led him over to the couch. "Sit here, dear. Put your elbow under his head like that and your hand under his bottom. See, it's easy."

Charlie felt a hand clap him on the back. "You should give Charlie a turn, Harry. He needs to get in practice."

He winced.

"Bill," his mother shrieked, spinning around, her hands clasped over her bosom. "Do you mean to say?"

"I do," Bill said gravely, as he was engulfed in a hug.

"My first grandchild. Oh, I need to sit down." She looked faint, so Charlie pulled out one of the kitchen chairs.

She was much recovered after a cup of tea, though still inclined to be somewhat flustered by the idea. Hermione and Ginny therefore took over the kitchen while she showed Harry and Ron how to change a nappy. Bill and Charlie ducked outside to escape the smoke.

"So," Charlie said, leaning against the doorpost. "I take it you didn't just come here to cause an uproar."

"No, you berk," Bill said, cuffing him round the head. "I came to invite you to stay."

"Thank Merlin."

 

**1991**  
Try as he might, Charlie couldn't see the harm in Remus.

The railcar was larger on the inside than out, as necessary to hold the dragon, and had a small compartment for passengers at one end. Remus sat at a small table beneath the window, gazing out at the gathering dusk and drinking yet another cup of tea.

Charlie pulled the door of the compartment closed behind him and stripped off his heavy outer cloak, dumping it and his pack on the on the upper of the two bunks at the back. "So," he said, dropping onto the bench seat on the other side with a jangle of nerves. He slid lower in the seat, stretching his legs out so their knees touched. "Twelve hours, huh. Got any ideas for ways to pass the time?"

Remus raised an eyebrow. "I understand sleeping is considered normal for this time of night."

"What?" Charlie searched his face for a sign he was joking, but his eyes remained serious. "Are you... are you serious?"

Remus sighed and put down his tea. "You really should listen to Holwick."

 

**1998**  
A day or so after Teddy's visit, his mother began organising a dinner party. Charlie recognised the signs and the ingredients for her special chicken and ham pie, and owled in a panic Bill to ask if he could come to stay a few days early.

"You might have told me," she said, when he turned up with his pack in the middle her preparations, but she didn't look too disappointed.

"Sorry, it was kind of last minute. Fleur decided to go away for a few days to visit her mother. Bill thought it would be a good opportunity for us to catch up."

"Never mind, dear." She turned back to the counter and started the bread kneading again.

"Is that it?" Ron asked, banging his hand down on the table. "When I tried to skip off, you gave me that whole guilt trip about how family dinners were important. I thought it was Charlie you were trying to set up anyway."

"Ronald Weasley!" she said, going red in the face. "As if I would stoop to blindsiding Charlie like that." She gave Charlie a hard look, and he squirmed, feeling guilty. "And I don't know what you are complaining about -- I invited Hermione. You won't get many opportunities to see her once term starts."

"What?" Ron shouted, with a face like a thundercloud. "She didn't tell me that!" He stormed out of the room. "Hey, Hermione, why didn't you tell me you were going back to Hogwarts? I thought we agreed..."

"Oh, Ron." Hermione's voice floated faintly down the stairs. "Of course I have to go back to Hogwarts. How else am I going to get a good job? In fact, Harry was just saying..."

Charlie heard the clumping sound of someone running up the stairs. "Harry, mate. Not you too!"

With Ron, the saying out of sight out of mind did not apply. When he was gone from sight (though not from hearing), his mother put the bread in a tin on the oven to rise. "It wouldn't do you any harm to start thinking about your future either."

"Mum!"

"I worry about you," she said, rinsing her floury hands under the tap. "I wish you'd come home. It's about time for you to start thinking about settling down, but I don't know how you're going to meet a nice girl out there in the middle of nowhere. And you won't let me introduce you to anyone."

Charlie winced. "I'm... I'm not ready."

His mother patted his cheek. "A man needs a family, dear. I just want you to think about it."

Charlie shrugged. "All right, Mum. Do you need anything from me before I go?"

"No," she said, eyes twinkling. "I've got Ron to help me."

Charlie shouldered his pack after kissing his mother goodbye, and went into the living room. "Oh hello, Professor," he said, helping Professor McGonagall out of the Floo. It didn't take a genius to work out that Ron was going to be in for a bad evening.

"Not staying?" she asked, brushing soot off her robes.

"'Fraid not." He grinned at her. "Probably best, all things considered."

"Probably," she agreed, fighting a losing battle to maintain her composure.

 

**1991**  
Charlie paced back and forth outside the compartment. It had been three days -- THREE DAYS -- since they had arrived at the reservation in north-western Canada, and Remus had summarily ditched him. And now Remus was late and the train was about to leave on the return journey. He had no idea what to do. He couldn't even ask for the train to wait because the bloody sleeping draught wouldn't last that long, and they couldn't afford to have the damn dragon wake up in the middle of the trip.

He snatched up the bag Remus had left behind, whirling in the direction of the main office to try to find someone to leave it with, and spotted Remus coming slowly down the path. "Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, storming up to him.

"My apologies," Remus said, through chattering teeth. His skin was clammy and his lips turning purple. "My business took longer than I thought."

"You're soaked," Charlie said, his anger dissolving. He hooked a hand through Remus's elbow, tugging in the direction of the buildings. "Come on, we have to get you somewhere warm."

Remus shook him off. "There's no time."

"Remus!"

"I'll be fine," Remus said, slowly climbing into the compartment.

In the end, Charlie had to help him, half hauling him up the ladder-like steps. Remus shrugged off his cloak, letting it puddle on the floor at his feet. It was a measure of how bad he felt that he just left it there. Charlie picked it up and dithered with it for a moment until the door shut with a bang, startling him into action. He flung the cloak over one of the chairs and tapped the teapot with his wand, because his Mum always made them tea when they got caught out in the rain.

"Got to get you out of those wet things," he said, unbuttoning Remus's shirt. Remus tried to help, but his fingers were stiff and clumsy. "What did you do, fall in a brook?"

"Big pile of snow," Remus said, attempting a smile.

Once Charlie had his pants off, he pushed Remus down on the lower bunk, yanked off his shoes and socks, and bundled him under the covers. He looked at Remus lying there shivering and dragged down the blanket from the top bunk and put that on top of him as well.

The teapot began steaming. Charlie fetched Remus a cup, but Remus was shaking too hard to hold it. "And you were on business, you say. What kind of business involves a person diving into snow drifts?" he asked, feeding Remus small sips of tea.

"Re'em blood. Turned out to be a little harder to catch than I expected."

"Re'em blood. Really?" He vaguely remembered the ox-like creatures from his NEWTs review. "And you brought it on an unsecured train. There are people who'd do just about anything for a few drops." He looked around; there were already wards on the railcar -- dragons were a valuable commodity in their own right -- but he added a few more to the door and windows, then sat back down on the bed.

Remus gave him a tired smile. "It's not that much of a worry. A source told me where to find one."

"But somebody knows you might have it," Charlie said, frowning. "Is that why Angus was worried?"

Remus shook his head, hands in his armpits. "I expect he thinks I've made some suspect choices in my time."

Charlie didn't know what to say to that. He knew the story of James Potter and the infamous Sirius Black, who didn't, but he couldn't imagine that anyone other than Remus would hold him responsible. He told Remus the story of the time he and Bill had tried to keep a water nymph in the bathtub instead.

"Your mother must be a very patient woman," Remus mumbled.

"Not exactly." Charlie slipped a hand beneath the covers. Remus's skin was still ice cold to touch. "I think you need some more tea."

Remus muttered something indistinct, closing his eyes.

"Hey, don't go to sleep!" Charlie said, tipping his head up. "Remus. Remus!"

Remus didn't respond.

"Shit!" Charlie sat with one hand on Remus's chest and looked about for something to help him. After a moment, his hands went to the buttons of his shirt. "Come on. Come on," he said, once he was down to his boxers. He rolled Remus over and slid up behind him, his nipples tightening against the cold, cold flesh. He put his mouth against Remus, breathing out hot air against the nape of his neck, and shifted his legs, rubbing their feet together. After a while, Remus stopped shivering so hard and slipped into sleep.

He woke once in the dark of the trans-Artic tunnel. "You aren't going to leave me alone, are you?" he mumbled.

Charlie didn't know quite what he meant by that, but it didn't matter. "Not a chance," he said, and pulled him closer.

 

**1998**  
There was a nice crowd of people at Teddy Lupin's christening. It was the first mass gathering in the wizarding world after the funerals, and everyone, it seemed, wanted to share in the joy.

The service itself was the standard fare. Charlie stood up and sat down and prayed when he was supposed to and tried not to drop off while the minister was speaking. Harry blushed charmingly at the cheer he got from the crowd and managed not to drop the baby when he was handed over. Teddy himself was remarkably well behaved; he didn't cry or spit up once, sleeping through the entire thing for the most part.

When the service was over, Charlie flattened himself against a wall while the rest of the crowd surged forward to congratulate Andromeda. The crowd was a mixture of wizards and Muggles, so the invitation had asked for Muggle attire to be worn. A stipulation that had been met with varying levels of success. One wizard had worn a fetching pale blue suit from the 1970s complete with wide lapels and there was a woman in a floppy straw hat and pink feather boa, though he couldn't be certain she just didn't have poor taste.

Right at the back of the church, though, stood a portly man with a handle bar moustache. His dress wasn't that outrageous. The oddest thing about it was the bowler hat he was clutching, but something about the way he moved drew Charlie's eye. A tall man moved across his sightline and the man with the bowler hat disappeared from view. Charlie pushed his way through the crowd, feeling rather like a salmon swimming upstream, but when he got to the back of the church the man had gone.

He ran out into the small cobbled marketplace outside the church, ducking and weaving through the small knots of people gathered outside. When he reached the centre of the square, he did a full 360, and then stopped, hands clasped together behind his head. The man was nowhere to be seen.

 

**1991**  
Remus went in search of unicorn hair at the end of October and a month later he was off again for giant's tears, but breeding season was the busiest time of the year, which kept Charlie busy. He learned how to tell the age of an adult dragon by calculating the range of dragon fire, how to tell the difference between the eggs from the six different species they kept in the preserve, that spells that would kill a human would knock a dragon unconscious in an emergency, and that Remus liked to suck cock, sometimes for hours at a time.

Still, Charlie was glad Remus returned in time to celebrate his birthday, though he didn't exactly partake of the celebrations. Which was just as well.

Charlie commenced the evening by declaring his fondness for the chocolate cream sponge his mother had sent but by the time every one had shouted him a round he was declaring his love of beer, the Chudley Cannons and the rest of the crew. About the time he was slumped over the table singing the song about the philandering merman, Remus looped one of Charlie's arms about his neck and hauled him away.

"Why're we leavin'?" Charlie asked, as Remus steered him carefully down the stairs and around the corner. "Party's still goin'."

He tried to turn back, but Remus caught him by the lapels. "You'll thank me in the morning."

"Will I?" Charlie collapsed against Remus, who took a couple of stumbling steps back into the wall, and buried his nose against Remus's neck. Remus smelled so good. "Why?"

"Come on," Remus said, with a small chuff of laughter as he arched his neck to avoid Charlie's seeking mouth. "Let's get you inside."

Charlie latched on to the warmth of Remus's neck instead. "Don't wanna go. It's nice here."

"It's a bit cold out here, don't you think?" Remus tried to heave Charlie off him but failed.

"Hmm, you're nice and warm, though," Charlie said, burrowing in closer. He got his hands in under Remus's clothes where it was even warmer.

Remus groaned. "I should have let you drink yourself insensate. It would be easier." He looked at Charlie with pursed lips. "How about we go inside and I blow you?"

Charlie arched against him like a cat and looked at him through lidded eyes. "Or you could blow me here."

"Here? Where anyone could walk past and see?"

Charlie's cock twitched. "Fuck, yeah," he breathed, clutching at Remus. "Just like that."

Remus gazed at him, open-mouthed for a moment, then shook his head and leaned in, putting his mouth right against Charlie's ear, and whispered to him in a husky voice. "Or we could go back to the tent. There's lube there, Charlie. If we went back there, I could use my fingers as well as my mouth. Strip you naked. Make you beg. Would you like that, hmm? I bet you would."

Charlie shuddered. Even through the haze, he knew a great idea when he heard one. "Yeah," he said, breath coming faster. "Yeah, let's do that."

In the morning, he buried his face in the pillow as Remus drew back the curtains from the window. "You bastard."

"That's not what you said last night."

"Hmm," he said, getting up on an elbow and squinting at Remus. "From the state of my head, I'd say I could have declared my love for one of the dragons."

Remus laughed. "Very nearly."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Remus handed him a mug of something hot that smelled like Paddy McDooley's hangover potion. Charlie sniffed it and shuddered; sometimes the cure was worse than the disease. "Drink it. You'll need it if you're going to work today."

Charlie groaned and collapsed back down on the bed, mug tucked tight against his chest. "Don't mind me. Think I'll just stay here for the next week or so."

"You'll miss your Portkey home."

Charlie groaned again.

"What?" Remus asked, eyes twinkling. "Feeling too delicate to contemplate a Weasley Christmas?"

"Feeling too delicate to contemplate a Christmas without you. You've only been back for a day or so and now I'll have to go. Unless..." Charlie sat up in the bed and grasped Remus's wrist. "You could come with me."

"I hardly think..." Remus sat down heavily, the bed listing to one side as the mattress sank beneath his weight. He shook his head. "What would I do, share a room with you and Bill?"

Charlie gave him his most wicked grin. "We could make him sleep on the couch. Be no more than he deserved. Did I tell you what he wrote the other day..."

"Charlie," Remus said, and, damn, now he was looking serious, which meant he wasn't going to be talked around. "I need to go home. It's been a while, and I have work to do."

Charlie frowned. "At Christmas?"

"It's..." Remus dropped his eyes to his lap. "Everything stops at Christmas. It might be months until I get that kind of time to myself again."

"What's so important that it can't wait," Charlie demanded, annoyed.

"I don't expect you to understand."

Charlie took an unthinking sip from the mug and choked, and Remus was there instantly to take the mug from his hands. When he had stopped spluttering, Charlie took in the tight lines of Remus's mouth and his white-knuckled grip on the mug and forced a grin. He slung an arm around Remus's neck. "We'll just have to find some way to celebrate by ourselves then."

 

**1998**  
There was tea and cake after the service, as is usual at christenings, and someone spiked the punch so Charlie was pleasantly tipsy by teatime, which was why his mother was able to corner him so easily. "There's someone I'd like you to meet," she said, hooking her arm through his elbow. She dragged him over toward to two women standing by the punch bowl. The youngest of the pair wore a twinset and a red ribbon in her limp brown hair, and the older woman had a frighteningly large bosom. "Charlie, this is Doris Applethwaite and her mother. Doris, this is my son Charlie. He works with dragons in Romania."

Charlie smiled and nodded and shook hands when required. Doris, it seemed, was a shy girl. Her mother did most of her talking. She wanted to know if he liked working in Romania, when he was planning to return to England, and whether he was free Wednesday week. "Yes. Yes. Yes," he replied, then blinked rapidly.

"See," said his mother, smiling like the cat that got the cream. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Erm." He gulped down another glass of punch.

Afterward, his nerves feeling rather shot, he gravitated toward some men who were busy toasting all and sundry with Firewhisky. Then about dusk, as those with small children were leaving, some younger wizards got out the wizarding wireless and charmed the lights to flash and began dancing. Charlie was standing there absolutely mesmerised by the sight of Harry Potter out on the designated dance floor, red faced and laughing as he tried to dance, when Bill came by.

"Don't you think you're being a bit obvious for someone who wants to keep things under wraps? I mean if you're going to stare at Harry Potter's arse all night, someone is bound to get the right idea."

Charlie blinked at Bill "It's a nice arse," he said after a beat or two. "He's very fit."

"I'm sure, but your sister wouldn't thank you for shagging him even if he were willing."

A slow sloppy grin spread across Charlie's face. "Doesn't stop me dreamin'."

Bill took the glass out of his hand. "All right, that's enough. Time to get you home before you embarrass us all."

 

**1991**  
"What's with you?" Bill kicked the toe of his boot as he sat on his bed, looking out at the muddy yard. "That bloke of yours must be rubbing off on you. It's not like you to blow off the carols service. You normally love all that stuff."

Charlie glared at him, throwing his half-finished letter on the bed. "It's not his fault."

"No?" said Bill, shrugging out of his robe. "Sounds like a right moody bastard from your letters."

Charlie looked out the window again. "It's complicated."

Bill began unbuttoning the cuffs of his royal blue formal robe. "Well, if you keep moping about like this, someone is bound to notice. Someone who'll want to find you some nice girl to cheer you up, if you get my drift."

"I just..." Charlie put his head in his hands. "You're making me sound like a twelve year old girl."

"That's not me, mate," Bill said, cheerfully. "That's your moody bastard doing that. But it's easy fixed, just go and see him. Not like you're being kept here against your will."

Charlie grinned. "Yeah."

"That's more like it."

Bill stripped off down to his boxers. He put on a pair of jeans that had been slung over the end of his bed and wandered over to the tallboy. Charlie watched him rummage through the drawers for a shirt. "Hey, you could come with me!" he said, getting up off the bed.

Bill cast him a disbelieving look over his shoulder. "What, so I can sit around and watch you get off? Not my cuppa really."

Charlie caught his shoulder and pulled him around. "You should come. You'd like him if you met him. And you'd stop calling him a moody bastard. And you could always push off before the snogging started."

Bill's brow creased as though he were thinking it over seriously, but he gave his shoulders a little shake, a sure sign he was eager to go. "All right, get yourself together and I'll go tell Mum."

"What? Now?"

"No time like the present."

Charlie looked down at the letter lying crumpled on the bed. "Maybe I should owl him first and warn him."

"Quit stalling," Bill said, and gave him a wink. "Make yourself pretty. I'll be right back."

Charlie gave him a shove out the door.

They apparated from the bedroom to a tiny cottage in Lincolnshire. They could hear the sound of Muggle cars off in the distance, but there were no other houses visible for miles around.

Bill rolled his eyes when Charlie hesitated, and then rapped once on the green front door. There was no answer.

They circled the cottage, but all was still and the only tracks they could see where their own. "Guess he's not home," Bill said.

Charlie's shoulders slumped. "Guess not."

"We could go in anyway," Bill said, with a wicked smile that showed all his teeth.

"How?"

Bill drew his wand with a showy flourish. "Lock picking is my speciality."

Charlie shifted from foot to foot. "I don't know."

"Merlin, what have they been doing to you at that place? You used to be up for all sorts. Besides, where's the harm?" Bill probed at the wards with his wand.

"Bill, no!"

"Charlie," Bill replied solemnly, then he said, "Aha, dragon blood ward," and the door clicked open. "Come on, you can leave him a note to tell him you stopped by."

Inside, the cottage seemed to have one main room, with areas for cooking, sitting and study clearly defined. Off to the left, Charlie could see the edge of a bed through the only internal door.

Predictably, the desk was cluttered with books and parchment, as was the bookshelf against a far wall. "Doesn't look like anyone's been home in a while," Bill said, wiping a finger through the dust on the bookshelf as he passed by.

"That your professional opinion," Charlie said, his voice tight.

"Looks as thick as the stuff they found inside Tutankhamun's tomb," he said, then stopped and clapped Charlie on the back. "Oh hey, he probably ran into some work and hasn't been home yet."

The corners of Charlie's mouth turned down. "So he's not off shagging some other poor bastard then?"

"Nah," said Bill carelessly. "Tell you what, though, these books are interesting."

"Magical creatures," Charlie said, examining some texts on Potion making. The jargon was so thick it made his head swim with exhaustion just looking at it. "Knows more about dark creatures than I'll ever know, probably."

"Yeah, but look at these," Bill said, indicating a whole shelf of books on lycanthropy.

"Bugger," Charlie said, shoulders knotting up. "I hope he's not trying to harvest parts from werewolves."

"Doubt it. Can't think of anything they'd be good for offhand."

"Oh, can't you," a voice said from the door.

Charlie flinched, interpreting the cool tone in Remus's voice as annoyance. "Sorry," he muttered to the floor. Bill, however, misread the situation completely. "Bill Weasley," he said, elbowing Charlie as he passed and giving him a smug look that clearly said see-nothing-to-worry-about as he stuck out his hand.

 

**1998**  
An hour later, Charlie was feeling somewhat worse for wear. "Mum set me up on a date... with a girl," he said, his cheek resting on the rim of the toilet.

"I know, mate, but don't worry, we'll find someway to get you out of it." Charlie's stomach spasmed and he retched yet again, but nothing came up, and Bill winced. "Don't think there's anything left in there. Fleur, can you get me the... Thanks," he said as she passed him a bottle containing a bright blue potion. "Haven't seen him like this since he came to visit me in Egypt the summer after he started working."

She squeezed his shoulder. "I'm sure he will be all right."

"Yeah." Bill poured out a large spoonful of the potion. "Here, mate, drink this."

Charlie opened his mouth obediently. He gagged and choked on the potion, but amazingly enough it stayed down. His stomach settled almost at once, and Bill hauled him to his feet. "Let's get you to bed."

"I saw Remus today," Charlie said, as Bill knelt down to take off his boots.

"That's the drink talking, Charlie," Bill said, without looking up.

Charlie began fumbling with the button on his shirt. "At least I think I did. It was at the church, before the drink."

"There you go then," Bill said, wrestling Charlie's pants down over his hips. "You aren't sure what you saw."

"He was in disguise."

Bill grabbed the rolled up cuffs of Charlie's sleeves and Charlie leaned forward so Bill could drag the shirt over his head. Bill shook his head. "If he was in disguise, how did you know it was him?"

"I just know."

"You know that's not possible, Charlie, don't you?" Bill asked, as he pushed Charlie down flat on the bed and pulled the crisp cool sheet up over him. "I mean, we all saw the body."

"Yeah," Charlie said, rolling over to face the wall after Bill left the room. "But this isn't the first time I've seen it."

 

**1992**  
It took a surprisingly short time for Charlie to get back in Remus's good graces. He fumbled about apologising for a month or so, but Remus bore it all with an air that suggested he was used to people disappointing him. "I should have owled to let you know I had been delayed," was his only comment on the matter in the end.

Hagrid came to visit, at the end of April. "How are yeh, Charlie?" he said, craning his neck to look at the sky above.

"Just great, Hagrid," Charlie said, putting down his quill. He was working on a complicated care and feeding program for the anticipated batch of hatchlings, which he was only too happy to abandon. "Would you like me to show you around?"

Hagrid's face became more and more crestfallen as Charlie led him round the dormitory tents, the main buildings and even the train depot before finally taking pity on him and taking him up the mountain. He took it easy, flying relatively low to the mountain since Hagrid hadn't ridden a broom in years -- "I dunno," Hagrid had said, giving it a doubtful look. "They ain't usually strong enough."

"These have more lift than usual," Charlie had said, with a wink. "They're made to support the bulk of a young dragon, so they should carry you." -- and then Hagrid began weeping openly once they started to pass over the pens.

"Ain't they beautiful," Hagrid said, dabbing at his eyes with an enormous white hanky. "Yer got any rare species?"

"A few Chinese Fireballs, but it's mostly Romanian Longhorns on this side." Hagrid's broom dipped low. "Hey, watch it," he said, hauling Hagrid away by the elbow. It was difficult to persuade so many dragons to live in such close proximity. The low wooden fences they used to pen the dragons were supplemented by magic and Hagrid was perilously close to the spell shields.

Then he noticed that the shield was down on the next pen over and a solitary figure was skirting the edge of the pen. The dragon, a nesting mother, was sleeping in the mouth of the cave, but the person was still well within range should she wake. None of the keepers would be foolish enough to take such a risk. In fact he could only think of one person who was. "Wait here," he said to Hagrid, then dived down to see what the stupid bastard was doing.

As he got closer, he could see his suspicions had been correct. It was Remus in the pen; he seemed to be collecting some scales the dragon had left on her favourite scratching post, prising them off with his wand and depositing them in a small pouch attached to his waist. Charlie landed quietly on a small patch of grass cultivated for that express purpose, and then began edging around toward Remus. There was loose rock everywhere, and he had to plan each step carefully to avoid making noise.

He was barely halfway there, however, when he heard the clatter behind him. He whipped his head around and saw Hagrid rolling down the mountain in a shower of rock. A low rumble came from the direction of the cave, and the dragon opened a great yellow eye.

It was Charlie's worst nightmare; the dragon was awake and he couldn't raise the shields because that would trap Remus in there with her. "Get out of there, Remus," he yelled as he pointed his wand into the air, setting off an emergency beacon.

The dragon advanced toward Remus with a burst of multi-coloured flame. Remus ducked behind the scratching post, which was immediately incinerated, leaving him completely exposed. Charlie did the only thing he could think of: he jumped on his broom and shot off a stunner. It bounced off her hide uselessly in a shower of sparks, but it made her turn in his direction, giving Remus the opportunity to run for it. Charlie swooped around the dragon, just out of range, but Remus, the git, didn't run. Instead, he shot off his own stunner. Charlie watched the dragon began to turn in his direction, and without thinking aimed his wand at her and yelled, "Avada Kedavra."

A burst of green flame hit her, spreading along her hide like wildfire, and she tottered. Her collapse was sickeningly slow, and Charlie could see the impending doom long before it happened as she first swayed one way and then the other. Remus tried to skitter out of the way, but the dragon went down with a thump, first her body, then her head, and lastly her massive tail, which crashed to the ground right on top of him.

The world was nothing more than white noise after that. Charlie slid off the broom and onto his knees beside Remus, who lay there pale and still. He didn't appear to be breathing and a trickle of blood ran from his nose, but his eyes were the worst, wide and fixed. Charlie wiped the blood away with his sleeve, but then realised his knees were wet, blood from Remus mixing with the dirt to form a thick red mud.

He was trying to levitate the tail off Remus when help finally arrived, an impossible task for a single wizard. He was shaking with exhaustion. "All right then, lad," Angus said, and drew him away so the other wizards could work.

Somewhere behind him he could hear Hagrid, telling him he was sorry over and over. That was what Angus said too, when the mediwizards came and took Remus away. They had him covered with a blanket, but his chest looked strangely sunken. He took Charlie straight to the canteen when they got back to the camp and ordered a bottle of Firewhisky. "There's no point," he said, when Charlie protested that he wanted to see Remus. "Nobody could survive that."

Charlie nodded, numb.

He was well into his cups when a mediwitch came to see him a few hours later. "Are you Weasley?" she asked, with a disapproving glare.

Charlie hunched his shoulders, preparing himself. "Yes."

"He's asking for you," she said, and Charlie jerked, falling off the stool in surprise.

 

**1998**  
The morning after the christening, Charlie lay on the sofa in Shell Cottage, nursing his hangover. Sunlight streamed in the open window. He could hear birds outside and further off the sound of breaking waves. He watched Bill fuss over Fleur as she left for work, getting her cloak and kissing her in front of the fireplace, one hand on her belly, and smiled.

"How long before she can't use the Floo anymore?" Charlie asked, once she had left.

Bill sank down into the armchair beside him. "Three or four months before her belly gets big enough for it to be dangerous, I suppose. It depends. I'm given to understand it's different for each woman. After that, she'll be able to apparate for another month or two."

"Hmm," Charlie said, toying with the fringing of the Persian rug in front of the couch.

Bill gave him a sidelong look. "What would you have done, if that had been Remus at the christening?"

Charlie rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "Dunno. It's complicated. It's not like we were... you know..."

"Madly in love," Bill said, leaning down over the arm of sofa and looking down at Charlie, a wide smile on his face.

"Git," Charlie said, thwapping his hand in the direction of Bill's arm. "It's not like you're offering any help here."

"And then he left you."

Charlie sat upright, dropping his feet to the floor with a thump. "Right. So, not a leg to stand on, then, really."

"Depends on why he left you," Bill said, rubbing the side of his head. "Why was that again?"

Charlie was saved from having to answer that by the arrival of the owl post. Bill got up to get it, paying the owl and giving it a treat from the jar over the stove as he flicked through the stack. "One for you," he said, dropping it on Charlie's chest. "From Mum. Probably wants to know when you're going back."

 

**1992**  
Charlie chuckled and flipped the letter over.

"The twins again?" Remus asked, looking up from his plate of eggs.

Charlie tossed the letter at Remus. "Ron. You'll never guess what Hagrid's done now." He picked up his toast and took a bite, watching for Remus's reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

"A dragon," Remus said, eyebrows shooting up. "Where did he get one of those?"

"Man in a pub, I think. Ron's in a right state. Needs his big brother to save the day." Charlie took a sip of pumpkin juice. "I'll have to speak to Angus, but we should have room for it. Will you help me fetch it?"

Remus looked furtively over his shoulder at the group of keepers sitting at one of the long tables in the middle of the canteen. "I don't think I'd be welcome."

"You're welcome if I say you're welcome," Charlie muttered, wiping his mouth and glaring across the room. "I don't know why they're..."

"Charlie, they don't understand what happened," Remus said, reaching for his hand. "It's natural for them to be spooked."

Charlie gripped his hand fiercely. "'Bout time they got over it, I reckon."

"When are you going?" Remus asked, turning back to his breakfast.

"A week or so. We'll need time to make the arrangements, but any longer and there's a danger the dragon will be too big to carry by broom."

"Sorry, Charlie. I have to..."

"No," Charlie said, throwing down his toast. "No. It's too... You've only been out of the infirmary a week." Angus looked up at the sharp sound of his voice, face unreadable, and Charlie sighed. He got up and patted Remus on the shoulder. "Right then, I'm off to speak to Angus."

 

**1998**  
After the peace of Shell Cottage, coming back to The Burrow was rather like stepping into a blast furnace. Ron was, well, Ron, and his mother was herself, and they were one as stubborn as the other. Charlie had no idea who would win this battle. Ron spent every waking moment washing windows and walls, cleaning out cupboards and mucking out the chicken shed. He was very nearly sent to clean out the shed as well, but his father putting his foot down saving him.

Charlie took long walks to compensate.

He was surprised one afternoon, therefore, to find Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny all lounging about in the sun on some mouldy old deck chairs that had been rescued from the attic. "No dishes that need cleaning?" he asked Ron.

"Nope," Ron said, peering out from beneath one eyelid.

"Ron caved," Ginny said, looking up from her magazine.

"I did not," Ron countered. "I simply weighed the options. I really didn't want to be cleaning windows for the rest of my life."

"Just as well,'' Hermione muttered, nose still firmly in her book.

"Oh, you so did," Ginny said, smirking at him until a clump of weeds with the dirt still attached landed on her bare midriff. She yanked out her wand. "Ooo, you're going to pay for that."

And just like that it was on. Ginny sent a jet of freezing water in Ron's direction and he came up spluttering behind a jelly legs jinx. "That the best you can do?" she asked, sending another burst in his direction. Some of the spray caught Harry and Charlie, who grinned at each other and joined the fray.

Ron misfired with a rather limp-wristed _Avium_ charm, feathers shooting out of the end of his wand, and Hermione sent her book zooming off to the safety of the kitchen and said, "Honestly, Ron, it's a good thing you're going back to Hogwarts."

 

**1992**  
It wasn't until he was flying over the North Sea, returning from Hogwarts with the lads, the dragon in its crate hanging heavy between them, that Charlie finally put two and two together. He stared at the pregnant moon so long he dipped out of formation. "Watch yourself, Charlie, or we'll all end up in the drink," someone called out to him.

He pulled back up, hunching low over his broom. "Can we go any faster?"

"Not in this wind," was the reply.

It took them until mid-afternoon to get back to the camp, and then Charlie had to see the dragon settled in the nursery section before he could go looking for Remus. He dropped his pack and broom in his tent but didn't even stop to take off his heavy cloak before he went looking.

He wasn't in his tent, or the office, or the canteen. "Have you seen Remus?" Charlie panted, running into Angus outside one of the supply tents

"Not since lunch." Angus searched his face. "Is there something..."

"I need to find him," Charlie said, his eyes darting left and right. He couldn't decide where to go next. "I need to talk to him."

"I saw him," said Pierre, a reedy-looking clerk. He pointed at the mountainside over Charlie's shoulder. "He went that way into the forest."

"Goddamn," Charlie said. "I'll never find him... No wait..." He took off in the direction of his own tent.

Angus caught the edge of the cloak that trailed behind Charlie. "Hold up a moment. You aren't thinking straight, lad. Remus is a grown man; he can look after himself."

Charlie twitched away and kept going. "There's no time. He's hunting werewolves and it's full moon."

"Why would he do that," said Angus, as they reached the tent, sounding puzzled.

Charlie raced inside and fell to his knees by his trunk. He'd thrown out the pants, but he still had the shirt he'd been wearing the day of Remus's accident. "You don't understand. He's always off somewhere at the full moon," he said, and began tossing things out of his trunk onto the floor. "And when he comes back, he's..." Battered. Bloody. "Oh, thank fuck for that." Now clutching the shirt, he grabbed his broom and his wand.

"You can't go out there after him, lad."

"Watch me," Charlie said, pointed his wand at the shirt and activated a tracking charm.

 

**1998**  
Charlie did manage to set off on his walk an hour or so later after a quick change of clothes. He had a routine by now: over the back fields, along the narrow hedge-lined roads to the village, up over the bridge to the church, cutting through the graveyard and a few fields to more narrow roads until he was home. He marvelled at how small it all seemed compared to his home in the mountains. How tame. The local wildlife amounted to nothing more than a few dogs and horses and the occasional mischievous gnome.

He'd never encountered anything more startling than the odd unexpected tractor coming around a bend, and certainly not the figure he saw standing by Remus's grave. He stood stock still, just inside the rough stone wall of the graveyard. "Remus."

Remus turned and stared at him for a heartbeat or two and then winked out of sight. Charlie disapparated an instant later.

He landed outside the Hogwarts gates and ran a full tilt all the way to Hagrid's cottage to find Hagrid standing in front of the door.

"I'm sorry, Charlie," he said, folding his great arms across his chest. "I'm sorry but I can't let yeh in. He doesn't want ter see yeh."

"That's rich. He doesn't want to see me," Charlie panted. He gathered his breath. "Remus! Remus, you owe me."

Hagrid shook his head. "Go home, Charlie. I've tried, but he won't..."

At that moment, the door creaked open. "It's all right, Hagrid," said Remus. "He's right. I do owe him."

 

**1992**  
Remus was deeper into the forest than Charlie had expected. The tracking charm urged him on through the close-growing trees, tugging insistently at his navel until he reached a small clearing. "Remus," he said, alighting. "Thank Merlin I've... Wait! What are you..."

Remus turned, eyes widening. He was naked, his neatly folded clothes sitting on top of a small rock. "Charlie," he said, putting his hands out as though he wanted to prevent Charlie from coming any closer. "You have to get out of here."

Charlie frowned. It was hard to make out Remus's expression in the fading light. "But I came to help you."

Remus shook his head firmly. "You can't help me. You can only help yourself. Now get out of here."

"Surely it will be safer with two of us," Charlie said, stepping forward. He reached for the ties of his cloak. "Er, should I take my clothes off too?"

"No, goddammit," Remus said, taking rapid steps backward right into a glimmering shaft of moonlight. "Aren't you listening? Get out of here while you still can; I'm a..." He fell to his knees, clutching his stomach, and seemed to writhe all over. Charlie knelt down to help him, and then scrabbled back in horror, trying to get his legs underneath him. Remus's eyes weren't grey any longer. They were a horrible feral yellow and his breath smelled like rotting meat.

"Shit," he said, casting about for his dropped broom as he backed away. Remus was a werewolf. He couldn't think. He found his broom by tripping over it in the end, but he didn't have time to get away. A terrible roar rang out through the clearing and a white hot pain flashed through his side.

He spun around to keep an eye on the danger, but it was like trying to keep hold of one of those vanishing kewpie dolls you got at the fair. The wolf flitted in and out of the shadows, first this side and then that, but when the attack came it was totally silent. Claws ripped into Charlie's leg and shoulder and he was sent sprawling into a pile of rotting leaves. The wolf stood over him, teeth snapping inches from his face. He thought for one long agonising moment that this was the end, but then a red flash of magic knocked the wolf off its feet.

"Never forget you have a wand, lad," Angus said as he landed. He got an arm under Charlie's shoulder and was helping him to his feet when a great paw swiped at his throat. He fell forward into Charlie's arms with a horrendous gurgle and Charlie, following Angus's last piece of advice, clutched at his wand in his pocket and apparated them away.

 

**1998**  
"How are you?" Remus asked, once they were inside.

Charlie cast about for something to explain the jumble of emotions he felt now that Remus was standing in front of him. He spied a familiar trunk, standing ready by the door. "You're leaving. How unexpected."

Remus held himself still, hands clasped loosely in front of him. "It's for the best, don't you think?"

"It's what you do best," Charlie said, and watched Remus flinch.

"Is this what you came here to say?" Remus asked, his face blank, and Charlie was pitched back into uncertain waters.

"Why her?'' he blurted out.

Remus looked at his hands. "I loved her."

"Why her and not me?"

Remus looked up, face strained. "It wasn't a choice with you. I... I almost killed you."

"No," Charlie thundered, anger welling out of every pore. "You had a choice. I didn't."

"I should have told you the truth," Remus said, sighing. "At least that would have protected you."

"Protect me," Charlie said, a pattern beginning to emerge from the jumble inside his head. He took two quick steps toward Remus and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Did you think that I would leave you, if I knew the truth? I wouldn't have. And I still wouldn't."

Remus frowned. "You didn't say anything. I saw you at Bill's wedding and you didn't say anything. You seemed fine."

"Too public," Charlie said, shaking his head. "Too public and too late. You were already married by then."

"You should forget about me. It would be better."

"Better for who? For me? For Teddy? Should he forget about you too?" Charlie pushed Remus away, frustrated. He was tired of living in this limbo, moving neither back nor forward. "I don't want to do this anymore. It's been six years, Remus. If I was going to forget about you it would have happened already"

Remus fell back against the enormous wooden table. He looked shocked, but not half as shocked as Charlie felt. "I want to try," he said, with sudden certainty. "I want to see if we can make this work."

"It might not."

Charlie touched the edge of his jaw with the pads of his fingers. "But that's no reason not to give it a shot. Say yes, Remus."

"Yes," Remus said, and clutched at Charlie's coat as Charlie held him and kissed him.

 

**1992**  
Charlie had meant to take them directly into the infirmary, but he fell a few feet short and went down in a tangle of limbs, Angus a dead weight on top of him. He tried to push him off, but his strength had left him, and they lay there until someone found them sometime later.

He was kept in the infirmary for three days, dreams feverish and confused. At one point, he dreamed that Remus had come to see him, looking pale and worn. "I didn't want this," Remus said in an agonised voice, forehead pressed against Charlie's hand. But another time he dreamed Remus was talking to him with the wolf's voice. They kept him under sedation after that.

"I don't know what's wrong with him," the mediwizard said, giving yet another draught. "He won't stay under the covers. I've never seen anything like it."

They let him out the day Angus was buried. Remus wasn't at the funeral.

Afterward, Charlie went to his tent. His things were gone. Charlie wasn't surprised.

 

**1998**  
"Speaking of sins of omission," Charlie said, lounging against Remus in a post-coital haze. "I'm going to have to tell my mother."

Remus slid his hand over Charlie's chest, fingering the light fuzz that hadn't been there when Charlie was nineteen. "About me?"

"Yes. No. Yes about you, but also that I prefer men." Remus pressed his face into Charlie's back, and Charlie could feel him shaking. "Is that... Are you laughing?"

"That's quite an omission," Remus choked out. He rolled onto his back still laughing and now clutching at his stomach as well.

Charlie flopped over onto his belly. "You know, that isn't how I thought this would go. It isn't that funny. I mean, have you met my mother? She's very..."

"...determined."

"Exactly, and very stubborn, so I might need a little help..."

"Oh no," Remus said, kissing him quickly and getting out of the bed. "That you can do all on your own."

"Hey," Charlie said, reaching for him. "Where are you going?"

"The funny thing about sins," Remus said, pulling on pants and a shirt, "is that there is always another one around the corner, and here it is getting dark, and Hagrid's shut out of his own cottage."

Charlie grabbed the edges of Remus's shirt and pulled him in. "What kind of sin is that?"

"Theft maybe," Lupin said, as Charlie's mouth slid up the side of his neck to the edge of his jaw.

"Mmm, that's not much fun," Charlie said, groping him through his pants. "Anything else?"

"Well... there's always fornication, I suppose."

"That's more like it." He fell back on the bed and stroked his cock once from root to tip. "And as you said, the sin's already been committed, so what does it matter if it goes on a little longer."

Remus laughed and fell down on top of him. "Well, maybe just a little longer."

 

**Epilogue**  
Charlie stepped out of the Floo and was immediately beset by something small that grabbed him around the thigh. "Charlie," it declared happily.

The something shrieked and giggled when Charlie grabbed it around the middle and dangled it upside down. "Hiya, kiddo," he said, looking down at Teddy between his jiggling feet.

He wandered into the kitchen, holding the still giggling Teddy upside down, where Remus was reading a book and stirring something on the stove. "He's turning purple," Remus said without even looking, as Charlie kissed him on the temple.

"Right." Charlie turned Teddy the right way up and set him on his feet. "How was your day?"

"Oh, you know," Remus said, waving the spoon in the air. "The usual chaos."

"Get much work done on the book?"

Remus made a face. "Not much. How was your day?"

"Were there dragons?" Teddy said, zooming around the kitchen with his arms out and making growling noises in what Charlie supposed was an approximation of a dragon. "Were they scary? Did they have teeth like this?" Teddy bared his teeth, which had gone sharp and jagged. His face was turning green and unless Charlie was mistaken there was a row of bumps like osteoderms rising on the back of his neck.

"One," Charlie said, to Teddy. "Only one, and nothing like as scary as you." To Remus he said, "The same Hebridean Black again." He stole a bit of cooked carrot. "Killed some more cattle up in the highlands. Those idiots at the Ministry were going to cull it. I had to talk real fast to get them to give it another chance, but I'd better call in my contacts and see if I can't find it a home."

"I'm sure you'll manage." Remus set the final dish down on the table.

"What's cull mean?" Teddy asked, nose wrinkling.

"It means they want to get rid of it permanently," Remus said, corralling him. "Now come and sit down. And remember, we have a rule: no dragons at the table."

"Aww, Dad," Teddy whined, but his face began turning back to its usual colour. He began shovelling food into his mouth. "Will it have to go to the dragon home in the mountains where Charlie worked?"

"Probably," Charlie said, shrugging. "Dragons can be a bit stubborn about territory."

After dinner, while Remus did the dishes, Charlie wrangled Teddy through the bath, teeth and storytime production line and finally into bed.

"How long before he goes off to Hogwarts?" Remus said, flopping down onto the couch.

Charlie sighed and did likewise. "Only another six years, give or take."

Remus groaned. "I'm too old for this."

"You love it," Charlie said, getting his arm around him.

Remus settled against him and took his hand. "Yes," he said, turning to Charlie and smiling. "I do."


End file.
